The Knife Cuts Both Ways
by alt-taj
Summary: Flash Fiction: Victor's hesitation on a hit leads to an unexpected partnership. Warning: Bloodletting (M/F)


He was hesitant but not reluctant. It would be a mistake to refer to his approach as being hindered by nerves. He was caught between the urge to liberate her with his soul-saving blade, and a more sinister desire to carefully kiss the trembling lips screaming in his face. He would have time to muse on this anomaly when he was alone but now he had a job to finish.

Despite his best efforts, he found himself compelled to show her the pleasures of the flesh, secretly hoping she would share the same passion found in spilling blood. Victor's hand shot out, gripping her wrist, as he slowly guided her clenched hand toward his stomach. Wide-eyed, she stifled her scream but did not resist. He paused to consider her eyes, empty of everything but fear. He was familiar with the blank stupefied gaze; he had always confronted it before a kill. What usually signaled his knife straight into an artery, now beheld his own reflection. She had captured his visage, staring back defiantly. Victor felt a tremor of fear, something unknown beyond his grasp. Emotions were such a rarity for him, he felt it was practical to proceed – if only before completing the job.

Victor had a habit of playing with his prey, but tonight he offered her his knife with dutiful reverence. It was a careful mistake that could easily be rectified should she choose to wield it shamelessly. He tried to conceal his shock as she opened her palm, nodding as if she had anticipated this exchange. Releasing her, he took a step back and began slowly rolling up his sleeve exposing brief patches of skin sheltered beneath a slaughter of scars. There were too many for her to count, the cross-hatch pattern beheld a chaotic order she had briefly understood in her youth. Her inquisitive eyes traced each mark as her nails began to follow the raised ridges burning in his arm. She thought she felt him shudder, but this would prove to be a futile fantasy. Victor only understood pain. It had been the only language which spoke to him.

He cut her exploration short by issuing a cold command: "Do it." He was offering his arm as a sacrament to her. The muscles in her shoulder tensed as she brought the blade down hard across his forearm nearly slicing through the tendon. Victor's eyes rolled white in the back of his skull with the rush of endorphins flooding his brain. A wet heavy torrent of blood burst out of him; it had been deeper than either of them had anticipated. He panted slowly, relishing every drop that poured out of the gash. His teeth gritted into a pained grimace which melted into a satisfied grin as he watched unsure of her reaction. The sight of her chewing her bottom lip entranced by the display, caused the hit man to throb with desire.

Was it possible for her to understand what Victor could never put into words. Could she see the dark, bizarre, brutal design of life which left him constantly on the edge of sanity? A suffocating silence filled the room, perhaps he had made a mistake in reaching through the void, the wrong person, the wrong time. He had foolishly displayed his vulnerability. How could anyone else see the world the way he did? How could Victor have hoped that she would hold out her arm in the hopes of him spilling her blood in solidarity. Without warning, Victor snatched back his knife, wasting no time in giving her a broad quick slice across her wrist. It was a sharp sting that left her gasping with a sick sense of pride as her wound wept red. Their eyes locked, breath staggered, both on the verge of passing out from their shared blood loss.

Victor's patience began to wane as he examined his own bleeding form. Thick red trails traveled down his arm, pooling into the crevice of his palm as he flicked rivulets of blood at the ground from his fingertips. While he was consumed by the flourish of this ritual, she sought out his arm to graze the wound, causing him to wince with surprise. Her fingers began tracing sigils of affection; she drew delicate loops of blood stained with her intent. Victor was mesmerized by her brazen act as he struggled to process the intimacy embedded with this gesture. He revered her with a stern stare, unable to ease the intensity of his eyes. With abrupt speed he gripped her wrist, sinking his fingers into her open flesh. They found refuge inside her gasping wound, soaked in her vital essence. This obscene act of affection filled him with a sense of excitement. He barely managed to conceal his sadistic pleasure as he watched her squeal in pain, throwing her head back only for a moment before composing herself. She would have to learn his language without protest; it was the only way to reach to him.

With an approving nod, Victor released her. He drew his finger across his bottom lip, slowly letting his tongue sneak out to savor her intimacy. Emboldened by this display, she mimicked him by softly sucking on her own blood stained finger. She could taste him underneath her nail, loving this grotesque intrigue she swallowed hard, unsure of how long he would grant her this reprieve. Victor held his breath, conflicting emotions swelled inside his head. He was calculating the risk of letting her live, a minor tarnish on his near perfect record. It would be better if she disappeared, but that would require a silent partner. She had enticed him, but he needed reassurance. He needed to know this wasn't a desperate ploy on her part to seek lenience.

He had never attempted this before, but he was confident the risk was worth his effort. He defied his killer instincts and ventured toward the unknown. Deep sunken eyes which once instilled terror now brought her closer to him. Every second passing between them felt tortuous. With swift certainty Victor stepped forward pressing a brief but powerful kiss upon her. She leaned into his body but he recoiled, this had to be on his terms. He was not insensitive to affection, just inexperienced. He stared at her betraying no emotion, but silently begging her to understand with a slow steady blink. She wanted more of him but refused to allow her desperation to show. She could learn to appeal to his detached demeanor, choosing to issue a stern decree: "Do it." Victor's pulse raged, he lunged – sweeping her head back before delivering her into a deep, all-consuming kiss. He wasn't concerned about technique, he wanted to crush her with his admiration. He felt inspired to inscribe poetry on the flesh of his next victim. Never before had Victor known this power or pleasure. He only knew he needed it to last...she would learn in time to share both his bed and his body count.


End file.
